


Harry Potter in the underworld

by Murderqueen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gore, M/M, alternative universe, maybe not so gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4455461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murderqueen/pseuds/Murderqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Non magical AU in which Harry can speak Parseltongue and thus is labeled as freak from his relatives. What can happen on a little trip for a picnic?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the forest.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! My first AU fic, hope you like it. It's a WIP so it make take some time for me to update. But I know where it is going ;)   
> So here we go with is the story.

Life, it is along harsh road which end could not be seen. A way surrounded by holes covered by bushes encircled by clouds of fury, hatred, and, sadness. Although sometimes quick strikes of happiness could appear, leaving a feeling of warmness, that would never last. No matter how long they stayed they would never be able to fill the emptiness made by the surrounding cold clouds of hatred.Nothing not even love could…

Love was useless, love was futile since it too would disappear with time, and it won’t last for eternity. It would be like chains forbidding from progressing any further in the path initially followed, and every move made within them could make human fall, in the abyss of Death. Everyone knew at first that they would fall but they still went on, they only fall were too tired to continue or if too horrors fell upon them, then life, what you always cherished would let you go.

And Death, is fullness and nothingness, is fire and ice, is everything you would wish for and everything you feared, and is the entity that would never let you go. It is ironic how much one wants to live but in the end only end up dying. There are infinite possibilities of dying but there is only one Death. Murder is only an act of ultimate passion.

              --_--_--_--

Once upon a time, on our beloved Earth life had been created, everyone was happy and did not know what death was. Creatures often disappeared, but only to come back soon after in a totally new form but with their memories. But one day a boy with the name of Voldemort was born hating life, there wasn’t much he liked either and he chose to deliberately end life of other person, and then he took his own life, and thus he disturbing the natural cycle of things. As a punishment Life forced him to watch the struggling of people that didn’t want to disappear from their actual lives, but Voldemort started stealing souls and keeping them in his kingdom above of the fire and under of the water, in the hope of making his loneliness fade. And this is how Death was created.

And in a way he started complementing Life. People started to develop their civilizations, in the fear of dying and never coming back. And ironically, Death managed making people love the life they were living, and hate the Death that had though indirectly done so much for them. And on a paper somewhere faraway, within Fate’s hands are written those words:

_There is no light without darkness, No heat without coldness_

_No need for sanity without madness._

_There is always an end, and as the clock rings we will never be here again._

_As emblems Death chose a Snake, and Life a Phoenix_

_But after that Snakes were looked down at, and no one ever saw again a Phoenix._

_It may be a legend, It may be a fairytale for children,_

_It is a story that came from father to son,_

_The story of the Boy-Who-Lived,_

_The one who will be Death’s equal._

               --_--_--_--

Harry James Potter was many things, he was called the Boy-Who-Lived, and for some reason he could not understand everything was capitalized. Every time he asked his mother Lily while looking straight into similar green eyes she at first would sit next to him and tell him it was not something for children to know, and that she would tell him everything when he would be 11 years old.

She had always treated him like if he was her little prince, and called him her Savior. He agreed after a time and kept silent till he was 11 years old, but by then she had seen him talk to snakes, and she had told him that it was a very bad thing to do, which he didn’t understand; couldn’t everyone talk to snakes, why was it bad to talk a language which one could acquire interesting knowledge from. /Because it’s my language…/ He heard a voice in his mind once whisper bitterly. Who was the poor person’s whose language got banned from all the tongues.

His mum, the formerly loving figure that once opened her arms to him to settle between them; she locked him in a cupboard and starved him for a morning when he first asked her about the reason he was called the Boy-Who-Lived. He didn’t realize that he had slipped to the snake’s language again. His dad, he didn’t see him much now, it was as if he was being avoided, but somehow he still felt that his father still cared for him. A child’s instinct was never wrong.

His friends, they had cared for him, and he knew Ginny wanted to be more than friends with him and to do things, like holding hands and such (what in holding hands did make things special, he always thought), but she mysteriously died when he was twelve years old and she eleven, he never knew that she wanted to confess to him, and then people started avoiding him, as if he was probably cursed, and as time passed he went on growing up alone, his convictions still growing up stronger, still thinking that he was a freak…

It is so difficult living so lonely like this after once seeing happiness, he sadly thought. But still he stubbornly wouldn’t let go of life, as many other people would have had when their own mother would want to kill them, for their freakiness. He still loved his mother, but it looked like the opposite was unthinkable.

On one night he heard his mother talk to his father in their own bedrooms. “I am worried about our son; he kept talking the snake language even when I told him not to. It will be only a matter of time till it will get discovered by the villagers, or worse by Petunia, because you know what that would mean.” He stopped listening there overwhelmed by the feeling of happiness, maybe his mother did love him, and was worried about him. He also didn’t understand why his mother’s sister would be the worst person to know of his skill. He also never met her so he couldn’t say much about her. Or maybe it was _him_ that was involved, and a sudden surge of happiness and foundness shone through him at the mere thought of him. He came back to his small bedroom in their small cottage, and drifted to dreamland. He had strange dreams about a world called Wonderland. Harry was observing the blue walls of his bedroom, after he woke up; it only contained a bed and a box where he would put his glasses, before sleeping. But what Harry liked the most in his bedroom was the window. He could watch everything till the beautiful castle that no one could enter and that was called the castle of Life. He didn’t know then that it was far more than just a name.

                 --_--_--_--

“Harry!” said his mother and she looked so happy, and wonderful in her light red summer dress, that emphasized her red hair while she carried a small picnic basket, for the three of them. “Yes mum.” He answered happiness practically oozing from him; after all it had been a while since they last went out together, it was only natural to be happy wasn’t it?

 

 

And then, he just woke up… He was a sixteen years old boy that lived with his relatives; the Dursley’s , after the death of his parent which meant from the moment was one year old. The only problem was that when he woke up he was lying and quite painfully on the ground. “See Petunia, I told you he was alright, probably just one of his attempts at destroying our perfect normal life.” Said uncle Vernon, then the whale like man turned to face him and told him with the most menacingly way that last one could muster, but he was already used to it , and it couldn’t affect him anymore. “Look boy, we’re going to a picnic tomorrow, and we‘re only bringing you along out of the goodness of our hearts, try to do one freakish thing to destroy our day and…” Uncle Vernon glared at him, and tried to make himself look menacing, which miserably failed, for him at least; he could tell Dudley was amazed from his father. He could easily hear the unpronounced “and you will get the beating of your life.” still lingering over the room, but it’s not like he wasn’t used to the threats or to the beatings.

Aunt Petunia told him then to make preparations for the picnic that was tomorrow. He merely obeyed her because he did not have another choice and he prefered to cook the food and to be able to eat some of it later. Harry was slicing some potatoes, and suppressing the loud grumbling of his hungry stomach -he thought for a moment about eating some of the food but if he got found out he would be severely punished, while hoping that all of this was just a bad dream, and, that he would eventually wake up in his mother’s lovingly worried gaze.

Tick tock, time passed and only the clock could attest of it. He eventually gave up the fact that he would wake up but it was obviously not something that merely came from his imagination, since for one he always knew when he was dreaming or not, and secondly he found himself sprawled on the floor, was it that he collapsed? He only remembered wanting to see his parents to live with them and to not be with the Dursley’s. Well, he never wanted to be with them so what had changed this time? And more importantly he remembered thinking about a _him_ , but he couldn’t remember who this _him_ was. He only remembered being really happy just by thinking about him. He concentrated on trying to know who this him was, but the more he tried the more his head hurt, he only gave up when he had a splitting headache. But still they were other weirds thing, for one he never saw his parents, well he must have seen them when he was one years old but he didn't remember them, yet in his “dream” he remembered that his mother was a beautiful redhead, she didn't look a bit like Aunt Petunia –how they were related by being something as close as sisters was beyond him, and that he looked a lot like his father, hell, he was a carbon copy of his father, except for the eyes he had his mother’s eyes, eyes like shining emeralds. He also remembered having friends which was totally impossible in real life since Dudley would always chase them away, if he did not know better he would say that Dudley was jealous, but of what he did not know.

He winced when he felt pain coming from his index; he cut his finger and from the small cut, little drops of blood were coming out. _Saliva is a good antiseptic_ , he thought in the same voice as the one which told him that it was because it was his language, that the language of the snakes got banned. He didn't know where the knowledge came from as he shoved his finger into his mouth and started licking it, but it was damn useful, since he knew he wouldn't get any kind of healing or treatment from his Aunt.

_Caw_

A raven stood in front of his window, staring at him with intelligent crimson eyes, but, Harry will never notice.

_Caw_

The bird of ill omen gazed at him as if thinking of something it would do to Harry. Then with a last guttural caw it flew to an unknown destination.

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley got in the car, as they headed to the forest of Dean. The way was surprisingly uneventful, only for a huge amount of crows and ravens on the trees. Then Harry started worrying about why he thought that it should be eventful, but eventually he just mentally shrugged it off –mostly because he was too hungry to dwell on it.

He didn't think that he would have been able to move his body even if he wanted to; seeing as he was compressed between the door and Dudley. That last one was weirdly very keen on touching the most he could –which would be very easy for him because of the difference of size between them, and he was feeling extremely disgusted by it which led into him squirming away from the touch, till he was compressed against the door. He kind of regretted squirming away now, obviously he could not change it anymore, so he just focused on happy things like food.

Weirdly, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't seem like they would do anything in the near future, it probably because they didn't do anything even when he got totally beaten up, if he had to choose he would chose being pressed against the door than getting beaten up…until a fat hand pressed against his thigh, no he definitely preferred getting beaten the crap out of.

Well, that was only if he didn't have any choice in the matter, if he had any little choice in the matter he would go away, in that place where he had seen his parents for what seemed eleven years old. He still refused to think of it as a dream, an illusion maybe but not a dream. But even an illusion seemed unlikely; he had felt every single moment of those years. The car went to a stop, realizing that they arrived when Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon got off of the car –which moved up because of the loss of weight. He opened the door to do the same, but he forgot that he was pressed against it, which resulted in him falling to the ground, and only to make things worst, his cousin walking on him, nearly breaking one of his bones in the process.

A caw made itself heard from one of the trees, and he looked up to see them. The plants were big beautiful unlike anything he had seen before, well the only things he had seen before were the 4 Privet Drive and his school, of course that is if you scratch the dream/illusion.

It was sunset, the trees, the plants ,the people, everything was surrounded by a golden halo giving an unreal setting to the whole place. He could see birds flying probably to find a nest since the night was coming he thought as he was wiping the dirt from his face. He also could not understand why did they choose the sunset to come; they were practically alone apart from the lone passerby, and businesses were quickly closing apart from lone ones. «Stop lazing around boy !” Said Uncle Vernon, “Hurry up and put things near the lake!” He suddenly, and amusedly thought that _he_ would be very angry to having once called him the same thing as Uncle Vernon did, he remembered brief flashes of smirking, petal like lips. But he couldn't do anything more for a moment, as happiness, fondness, maybe even love surged through him; he could only stand with a stupid, goofy smile on his face until his whale like uncle forced him to do what he was told to should he like it or not.

To whom those smirking lips belonged to he thought hurriedly while setting the picnic place, was it that he? He wanted to face palm himself, of course it was that him, it can only be him.

 

 

Dudley Dursley suddenly appeared behind his cousin without a sound which was surprising for his weight, or was it that his cousin was too lost in thoughts. Well it was a little of the both ; Harry wouldn't have noticed an elephant even if it was behind him right now, and Dudley did as little sounds as he could. Dudley knew he was going to enjoy what was about to happen.

 

Harry was now trying to determine if that mysterious person was from the world of his parents –because this is how he decided to call it, or from the world of Dudley, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Smelting, both worlds were painfully real, both worlds had him in them, but even so they were so obviously different; like love and hate, like light and darkness.

At a moment, even slightly, appeared to him the possibility that he was mad, no, completely bonkers, but he refused to think of it like that, but the doubt still lingered, like the perfume of a long gone lover. He sat by the lake, alone as the rest were eating, while he couldn't, well one couldn't make the food and eat it, but, his stomach seemingly didn't agree with him as it started growling, like it had done yesterday. Aunt Petunia seemingly took pity on him; she gave him a bit of bread, with cheese and a potato, it was little but his stomach seemed really happy to get at least this into it, as it grumbled loudly again. His Aunt looked at him in disgust and merely said: “Eat.” He didn't let her repeat herself since the-soon-to-be seventeen years old hastily bit into the bread he got given.

He didn't take more than one bite when Dudley suddenly decided to take his precious food and run away from the lake, thank God he wasn't really fast –which was to be expected since he was so fat, Harry was not going to let him take his food, he was so hungry, just so hungry he couldn't really think straight, and thus he never asked himself what was Dudley’s true motive, or to think at least about the beating he would get from Uncle Vernon –who was glaring furiously at him as he got up to his feet- later. He just didn't think about it. And it was still unclear if he would regret it or not.

 

Dudley was slowly advancing deeper and deeper into the forest woods. He still ran until he couldn't hear the lake’s sounds and then he stopped running at all. He turned to wait for Harry. He didn't have to wait long to see the familiar green eyes of the freak, in fact, he didn't have to wait at all.

 

Harry was furious, utterly furious; he didn't eat for two whole days, and now three, merely surviving on water from the tap when no one was looking, and Dudley actually thought a he could take his sole meal. Hell if he was going to let him! He stood there had gripping at a tree, his face flushed from the run, when he saw that Dudley stopped running.

That last one smirked knowingly, and Harry knew then that something was wrong, but as always it was too late. The whale like boy dropped Harry’s share from the picnic, and actually had the nerve to laugh at him as he lunged forward to grab it. He was extremely confident in his skills that he would manage to grab it, he actually would have if that white blurry thing didn't jump forward and snatch away from him.

_What are you playing at Dudley_? The boy with a lightning shaped scar thought as he followed it. He never heard Dudley Dursley’s pained scream but Vernon and Petunia Dursley did, for sure.

Harry James Potter felt like he was doing something very stupid, following something he couldn't even recognize but it was as if his stomach had token over and he could only obey it.

The “thing” was from what he could tell mostly white, but he could see some black at its top, it seemed as if it was covered with some kind of mist which made it impossible to tell more about it, it was quite small; bigger to be a rabbit and too small to be a human, yet it cackled madly in delight, and Harry knew something was definitely more wrong than it was before, so he chose to run away and back to Dudley or better to Aunt Petunia.

He started running again but in an opposite direction than the one he took before. He ran for what felt like hours, and his stomach growled loudly in protest, he ran and the sceneries kept changing around him, and he just wanted this forest to come to an end, but it just kept on going on.

He somehow couldn't shake the feeling of being observed, and he once swore he had seen blue eyes watching him from behind a tree. He got hit by a branch on his head, and lost his consciousness as he fell to the ground, blood dripping from his head. Harry’s first thought when he woke up was that he wasn't that hungry anymore, and that his head hurt, awfully. He took in his blurry surroundings –he did not have his glasses on- which consisted mostly of a brown color, and did ground always feel this nice? He suddenly had something pressed against his nose and as he regained his view he knew they were his glasses. He was in a room on a bed, the walls were quite small and he had a nightstand table next to him, warm sun rays trailing from a big window in front of his bed. The whole house smelled yummy, which was weird, and as he turned his head to the side he was met with the dreamy blue eyes of a girl. A girl who seemed to like having radishes like earrings, and who loved wearing yellow to the point it hurt his eyes, she also wore a muddy brown round hat in her head.

“Hello, Harry Potter” she said in a dreamy voice and she had a smile on her face, it made her seem as if she could never see sadness in the world.

Harry was now downright alarmed. “Who are you, and how do you know my name ?” He said in a voice he hoped was threatening.

She answered him again. “A Sleeping Fijehl told me,as for who I am; I am the Mad Hatter.”


	2. The hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there~ sorry for the slow updates, do I m going to clear sometings up! Harry was with his parents in the previous chapter... But they were dead so how could he? Maybe he was...recalling memories, or was he?

Vernon and Petunia Dursley rushed to where they could hear a scream; it came from the inside the forest, suddenly they couldn’t hear it anymore, and the absence of the scream was even more worrying that it’s presence.

Lily Evans’ sister started to think, as a way to reassure herself that it was merely a joke played by both of her and her sister’s sons but, she also knew it was very unlikely since both of them, hated each other. Maybe, she and Vernon had a hand in this. She didn’t know to whom the scream belonged to, and she feared what was happening to her Duddykins if it was indeed him who was screaming.

They went on walking as fast as they could, till Vernon who was in front of her came to a stop. He was taking huge intakes of breaths and his shoulders were slumped. She thought that he was just tired, but when she tried to come closer and he didn’t let her, she knew then that it wasn’t tiredness, it was horror and shock.

  
Petunia was growing more and more scared as the time passed, she hoped childishly and selfishly that whomever her husband was looking at was merely a stranger or Lily’s son, just someone that wasn’t her own precious child, but she also knew that if it was just a stranger, or even the Potter boy, Vernon wouldn’t have this reaction, and he wouldn’t be muttering over and over “I will kill that freak” over and over almost chanting it. But she still hoped.

Even though she felt weak in the knees, she gently pushed Vernon to the side, she knew; it was worse than what she believed when he let her push him to the side. As if the sight in front of her wasn’t enough proof.  
It wasn’t just a stranger, it wasn’t just Harry Potter, it was her son, her beloved only son. She sunk to the ground as she saw what every mother dreaded in their worst nightmare; but it felt hundreds no thousands times worst, because it was so painfully real, and mere numbers, mere words, couldn’t bring to life how she was hurt, because no one thought of words that matched this level of pain, no one thought of how great the love of a mother was.

  
Tears of despair and disbelief clung to her eyes as she looked at her son’s body, one look.

The first thing she noticed was blood; crimson trailing all over her son’s body and even on the ground. Dudley was lying on his back with his shirt torn and bloody, making it hard to know if they were his own blood or his opponent’s, because Dudley had to have made the one who hurt him suffer a bit. Her Dudley was strong…right? She didn’t want to look, but she at the same time had to know if her Duddykins was still alive.  
His face was as bloody as the rest of his body, but she could easily see the injuries now, ones that she couldn’t patch up as easily as she did when he came back with a scratch on his precious face. His eyes were torn from their sockets, even the nerve was cut, and crimson tears trailed down his face –she refused to think that it was blood. His cheeks were severed clumsily, she shivered in horror at the comparison but it seemed as if they were pecked by birds or cut slowly bit by bit, but she refused to think it was true. His mouth was open as if it was shouting a silent scream. The scream they heard when they were on their way.

His chest was open, just as his stomach, but, his heart was missing –which destroyed any hope that her son was still alive, and his insides were dropping from the vertical cut, which surprisingly wasn’t bloody. The more she looked at the wounds the more she hopped that her son didn’t suffer much before he died. But the scream they had heard proved her otherwise.

  
His pants were bloody; she didn’t remove them because she didn't want to see the true extent of the suffering her son felt. His legs were lying at odd angles, and some of his toes were missing.

Her son was dead.

He was gone forever. He was the only thing she had left to cherish, and…she lost him too. She tried to stay strong, when all her world was falling apart, when her only reason to stay alive died, but she quite obviously couldn’t stay strong. She cried like she did when she was a little girl, like she did when she was a young woman, when an unknown man took her sister that was her only friend, away from her. She cried because she truly lost everything.

  
Vernon had been a great husband and a great father too, but, maybe it was the bouts of anger he had, but she couldn’t like him like she adored her son. She was proud of being his wife, and he gave her happiness when he gave her Dudley.

  
But Dudley died, she kept realizing it over and over and it sank in like knives inside her heart.

She was broken, she was devastated, she…wanted to take revenge on her son’s behalf, she didn’t care anymore what she had to do in order to do it, she only cared for the fact that she had to do it.  
She didn’t care if she had to commit murder.

People might say she had gone mad, but she didn’t care for that either.

Petunia Dursley turned then towards her husband, who was still muttering in his corner about freaks and, revenge.

_Angerangeranger, ANGER_!

She was so angry at her husband she might kill him, but she didn’t for some –even to her- unknown reason; he was just there and not taking any action into finding who did this to her, to their son.

“Vernon, please call the police, immediately.” She said in a trembling voice barely hiding the turmoil of her emotions.  
He stopped his annoying muttering, and looked at her as if she had lost her mind.  
“You can’t be serious, Petunia we already know it’s that boy, that freak that killed our Dudley, and we shouldn’t have invited him in our home. I told you the first time he was only trouble. And now he killed Dudley. But don’t worry Tuney, the moment I get my hands on him, he, will, be, dead.” He said with large gestures with his hand, and sometime a maniacal laugh could be heard from him.

“Vernon!” She said with a more urgent tone, and this time however, he took his cellphone and started dialing a number.  
She heard him calling and doing what she told him to but she soon switched off his voice in her mind after hearing a few words of his, and started to ponder what had been told to her.

Vernon had said that the freak had killed Dudley.

She was going to kill the freak, as simple as that.

  
Later on, autopsy had said that it wasn’t the wounds that had killed her Dudley first, it was a small bit from a snake, and this, this was the last bit of evidence she needed.  
Harry James Potter was going to regret the day he ever laid a finger on her son, because she was going to make sure it happened.

And this is how Death took the first of the three Dursleys.  
              --_--_--_  
Had he heard well or did this girl just mention a… Flying Fihjel or was it Fijehl? He didn’t know, but truly his first inclination was to think this girl was mad, and try to leave this place, but then he remembered that he thought he was able to talk to snakes, he had a voice in his head giving him valuable advice from time to time (Saliva is a good antiseptic).

Couldn’t be any saner now right? So he kind of decided to stay, and also because the house smelt so damn good, and the bed was so comfy –he had never slept in such a comfy bed before, and he was so hungry, and maybe this girl -she called herself the Mad Hatter right? - had some explanation to that illusion, well whatever it should be called of his, as irrational as the thought could be.

  
“But you can call me Luna; I have always wanted someone to call me Luna.” She offered in that dreamy voice of her.

“Right,uh, Luna, you can call me Harry too.” He said in what he hoped was a friendly voice.

“Oh but I was already intending to, Harry.” She was smiling now.

And, the conversation kind of died down there, he tried breaking the awkward silence by moving on a lighter subject.

“Do you live with your parents here? It’s a rather beauti-”He started.

“My parents are dead.” She cut him off, but what shocked him was the smile on her face, maybe…

“You’re joking right?” He said, with a nervous laugh.

“No,no, I'm perfectly serious, my parents are dead.” But the smile never faltered. “My mother is such a great woman, it is such a pity that she had to die, sometimes I think back on it and feel... sad.” She said as her eyes lowered, and her face became the true mask of sadness if not for the mad glint in her eyes. “But now I have you, don't I Harry?” And he almost wanted to believe everything she was saying but something in his gut told him he shouldn't.

“Ye-, wait what about your dad?” He inquired.

“My dad, is a really bad man” she almost pouted “He didn't even believe in Nargles unlike mom. I hate dad.” And the smile was back on her face while she was talking about this as easily as talking about weather, but did the tightening of her hand speak of anger or sadness. Did she….  
He was now trying to take away the doubt that was quickly welling up inside of him, the horrible thought that this girl who was smiling so brightly murdered her own parents.

“Were your parents, um, murdered?” He asked before he could stop himself. There was a moment’s pause and the widening of her eyes.

“Y-yes how did you know?” She said looking surprised for once, she had even stuttered.  
He didn't even bother to answer not knowing what could possibly go wrong with this simple gesture. He only thought that she was the murderer of her own parents.   
Was he going to die next?

So he was now trying to figure what the in the hell he was doing at this girl’s, this murderer’s house; she could have found him out there laying on the ground with a bloody head, and brought him to her home –but why in the forest exactly, but then why didn’t she call the police or an ambulance, maybe seeing as she lived in a forest she didn’t have a phone or there wasn’t any network, or was it that instead she wanted to kill him. She could have easily been what had knocked him out. He honestly didn’t know and still was thinking over it when he noticed that she was still looking at him, with a mesmerized look on her face, it was creepy –even more than her mentioning flying Fijehl or her smiling at the mentions of her parents’ deaths, her gaze didn't falter once from his forehead. She was leaning in closer, really slowly, her hand slightly raised, and it reminded him so much of when Uncle Vernon came back home in a bad mood.

_Freak, he heard the word echoing his mind, he remembered being forcibly pushed against a wall while a belt continuously slapped against his back, and he was screaming, and begging for the pain to stop, but it didn't it just went stronger and stronger till Uncle Vernon got tired of beating him, and then he would slowly reach to Harry, and then…_

No, why was he remembering this now, when it was over, Luna wouldn't mind letting him stay, and the wild look in her eyes told him she wouldn't mind at all, but he would be very lucky making it in one piece, he thought as he recoiled from the hand.

He pushed her aside happily deciding that even if he was probably insane, that shouldn't make him have to spend time with people who were definitely insane and murderers too, then he started running as fast as he could towards the door. He didn't know it was the end.

He didn't see while running that the local news that were talking about Dudley Dursley’s death, and the speech of his family that quite obviously thought that Harry had something to do with it…but Luna did.

  
He closed the door leading outside and started walking –barefoot- on the forest’s ground.   
               --_--_--_  
If little Harry had stayed maybe things would have turned out to be different…but now time’s machine started and Fate chuckled while moving a piece over the chessboard. Truly this human’s life was amusing, and he could think of another person who thought the same: Life. Maybe it was because their existences were so entangled together?

_Tick-Tock_ , time was passing by and the boy was so close to being dead, he needed just one little push, and he was willing to do just that, just, to see the reaction of Life to see his so prized possession getting out of his reach, and seeing that little “mortal” meeting the only other human who has turned truly immortal well that person wasn't going to let her claim that place alone; he was going to send him a mate . But well, he will have to wait to do so…but he hated waiting, he clapped his hand in delight, like a little child who just got a new toy. He could be patient but why do that when he could just speed up things alright? And he was going to do just that.   
               --_--_--_  
 _Shit, shit, shit_ , Harry thought while running, he was being chased by something, he knew it, he could even feel it damn it, he also could feel that it wasn’t Luna; he couldn’t hear any footsteps any rustling of clothes, nothing except for a weird sound of dripping. He turned slightly his head but turned it when he recognized what was chasing him and focused on running harder.

It wasn’t Luna it was that white fluffy things with black in the front of it from yesterday, or whenever had it been. The only problem is that now that he was in front of it he could see its face, if it could be called that, it was something dark maybe black –his quick look certainly hadn’t let him pick up details and he was thankful for that, which was partially covered in something red that could only be a liquid –he didn’t allow himself to think it was blood- that sure explained the dripping sound. He could even hear gurgling, and he wanted to throw up, and… Well looked like he wouldn’t anything of that since that thing suddenly disappeared into thin air when he looked back at it another time. The silence almost as worrying as it's absence, sounds of leaves rustling or of them cracking under his feet the only sounds present . He started walking now because he was tired from his run from death, his ear straining to hear any odd sounds and his breath was coming out hurried in uneven breaths. But he heard nothing, so he started looking for more important things namely, a shelter. It was kind of the obvious thing to do after meeting a girl that had murdered her own parents, and that was looking for him now, and after seeing something that scared the life out of him and that too was looking out for him to kill him. Couldn't be any better, he thought , I am definitely missing the Dursleys.

Although they had abused him and starved him they were too much of cowards to try to kill him. He entertained for a moment the thought of going back to them. But he didn't have enough time for that; the sun was quickly setting, and when did time start passing that fast? He didn't even have the time to look for a shelter he was screwed, he was so going to die. The birds were quieting only the occasional chirp now. He was running from both death and time, and neither could be avoided.

That's how with eyes dilated with fear and a heart thumping so loud he thought it could be practically heard, he slept under an elder tree a cold wind blowing over him. And as the moon rose in the sky, his eyes closed and his mind woke into a world full of magic and happiness. A world where he was the hero and the martyr.

  
He woke feeling a dull throb going over him for sleeping on the ground, he rose with his hair and clothes matted by mud. He was maybe mad for being so happy, and he was probably going to catch a cold for sleeping in such a cold weather, but he was away from the Dursleys, and it only could mean positive things.

If only things were this easy , he would later muse on.

But for now he happily wandered in the beautiful, mysterious forest, and forgot the threat that Luna was.  
              --_--_--_  
“I hate him I hate him. I. Hate him!” Luna screamed as she slammed her hand against a tree. That infested with Wrackspurts boy had killed her mother and his own cousin, how could he! He destroyed lives and because of him she had to grow up without parents at the mere age of nine! The Sleeping Laywsee woke up from their everlasting sleep because of the mostly unknown emotions she was starting to feel, they raised their red heads and raised their small translucent hands to wipe away the tears she did not realize she shed. They told her to be happy and smile like she used to. She nodded because she could no longer talk. But how could she be happy? How could she when the murderer of her parents was still alive? She clutched her little hands and started sobbing, feeling for the second time of her life this tightening of her chest, this emotion that broke her whole world.

This sadness, the feeling that debauched the pure angel that she had been. It was obvious to her that this feeling could only disappear with Harry Potter. She vowed to herself and to the little Sleeping Laywsee and to her parents that she was going to destroy his world –just like he destroyed hers- and she was going to do it with a smile.

She started giggling and then laughing, her shoulders were shaking and tears were falling down her cheeks. The sight was truly scary to behold for she looked to be the true mask of madness.

She didn't realize that she was the murderer of her parents and I doubt she had known that even while murdering them.

  
Luna : moon, a natural satellite of the Earth, which always shows the same side.

  
_I wonder what the other side of the moon looks like…_  
                  --_--_--_  
He sneezed –he probably caught a cold as he was expecting- before hearing rustling right behind him, he looked back to see Luna, The Mad Hatter, the girl who murdered her parents. Her eyes didn't have the mad glint that characterized them, in fact they were lacking everything, they looked like those of a doll; lifeless and the sight was creepy on a human. He noticed on a later thought, when she started moving forwards that she was holding a bloody knife in her lef..right hand. His reaction was obvious: he started running away from her. She started childishly laughing as if the thought that he could get away from her was absurd. She was right, although Harry didn't know it yet.

“You want to play hide and seek Harry? I love that game! So you hide and I find you okay? I’ll start counting now!” She said while her voice was gradually decreasing in strenght.

“10!”   
He heard her shout, she was obviously still very close by, too close by.  
“9!”   
Was he really supposed to be hiding, but how could he, when she obviously knew every-  
“8!”  
-nook and cranny of this place? He was still running around aimlessly too close apparently.  
“7!”  
What should he do? Damn it! He was running out of time and it was his life at stake!  
“6!”  
Where should he hide? He almost wanted to cry in frustration and in fear and he barely-  
“5!"  
-muffled a sneeze. Damn it he only had 5 seconds left!  
“4!”  
Maybe he could join his parents now and the Dursleys would finally be rid of the freak he was.  
“3!”  
No he did not want to die he wanted to stay alive damn everything and everyone who thought-  
“2!”  
-the opposite. Maybe he should just hide behind a tree and then wait for her to go in the-  
“1!”   
-opposite direction then run away, doing as he thought.  
“Zeroo! Time’s up Harry, let's find were you’re hiding!”

And there she was a shimmer of bouncing dirty blond hair and pale bare feet, the silvery flicker of the knife, and her sky blue eyes were aimed directly at his.  
\--_--_--_  
 _The girl’s pale eyes mirrored the emotions a predator would have towards its prey: hate, hunger, and the feeling of utter control. The feeling that even though the prey thought it had a chance to escape, it didn't, it was trapped in a finely woven web, and all the doors that could have allowed an escape were guarded and closed.  
It(the prey), was going to die_.  
\--_--_--_  
Harry Potter was sure of one thing at the moment, either he run either he get killed, a very long and gruesome death if the look of hunger _andsomuchmore_ , and the way the Mad Hatter(because she could only be called mad) was holding her knife was anything to go by. And that was what he was telling his stupid fear paralyzed legs.

_Fearfearfear_

He finally managed to make them move just as she was lunging forwards, and he hurried in the opposite direction she was coming from. And yes there was hope, he was going to live, he thought.

_Thump_

As if on cue, as if the Fates were mocking him, he fell loudly on the floor, because he tripped on some stupid root. He wanted to cry and he tried to stand up to run again, although when he attempted so a silver flash moved through his peripheral vision and landed right up his outstretched forearm, thankfully missing him, but when he heard footsteps behind him and then small hands curling around his thin wrists tugging upwards and then turning him on his back. He had to resist, he struggled from her hold, but she was way stronger than him which was quite easy since he was underfed, and that plus having abusive relatives made you try to curl up and absorb all the hits than trying to actually strike back, he knew that he couldn't fight back against his relatives. But he tried to struggle to hit her with his legs.

She straddled him calmly, her eyes once again devoid of any emotions after being full of so much hatred and hunger. She let go of his hands and Harry immediately began to hit her, The Mad Hatter (for she could only be mad), raised one finger and delicately almost tenderly pressed it to his mouth, confusing him and stopping the blows from further harming her.   
“Stop being a bad boy!” She pouted and it couldn't have shown what her next words would be, “First, you cheat in hide and seek and don't let me catch you when I find you, and next you start hitting me?” He started hitting her again harder this time he didn't care if he was a bad boy by a clearly insane person’s standard, “ Stop hitting me Harry,” she hissed anger contorting her face, “or I am going to cut off those hands sooner than when I intended to. You don't want that do you?” A twisted grin finding its way on her contorted face, silencing his struggles along with her words, he just cried helplessly because he knew everything was long lost. He had lost the moment he had set foot into that forest.

She only sighed.

“Harry, you know my father was really really mean, just like you. He didn't believe in what I believed into, I am sure it's the Wrackspurts that clouded his mind: they seemed to enjoy it as a breeding ground.”

He merely sobbed more and resented himself for being this weak.

“ –but let's stop talking about unhappy things, kay? Let's talk about what we have in common alright?” She started smiling, a movement that didn't seem to reach her eyes. She seemed to think about how possibly could she make his life become worst before killing him. And he didn't care about what she thought he just wanted to grab her face and slam it against anything, just so she would drip unconscious and bleed, preferably to death, but then he stopped himself from prolonging such evil thoughts. But she deserves it doesn't she? A voice so familiar but not his own, whispered tantalizingly to his mind.

“Umm, I think the word freak describe us both doesn't it, Harry? Both of our families called us freaks didn't yours?” She finished her last words barely audible if not for the fact that she was quite muttering them to his ear.

The knife pressed on his forearm’s skin breaking it, and drawing whatever pattern it was following. White hot pain was searing him, it was all he could think about. He held in a whimper that he let out when the knife went out and pressed against his skin a bit further and it went in deeper.  
“But that's not kind of me to compare you to me right? Let's talk about what I think of you right?”

He couldn't process what she was saying since he was entirely focused on the piercing pain in his forearm; she kept changing the pressure at which she applied the blade, making sure that his mind wouldn't be able to shut off the ache because it became repetitive. And _Argh_! She used the tip of the blade on his stomach now, blood slowly pouring from some of the wounds that were inflicted on him.

He started hurting everywhere, small pleas to make her stop, constantly leaving his lips, often accompanied by small whimpers or loud screams. He felt pain and he hated the feeling; but it also reminded him that he was alive and his heart was still beating, and not for the first time he loathed that fact.

  
Harry screamed, he cried then he whimpered, now the pain was too much; so much that even reacting to it would make it hurt more, so only broken moans were leaving his lips.

He looked like a piece of art, clothes torn and crimson tears trailing all over him almost looking like deep red ropes circling him in a viscous grip and dried tears marking his face. He couldn't see it of course, but written, with wonky letters, on him, were words that his “family” had called him. Should he read them he would see.

  
_Freak_ (oh, that would be Uncle Vernon, would he think), _scum_ (again Uncle Vernon), _a nobody_ (hey that's Dudley), _killer_ (Aunt Petunia), and other hateful words and _I hate you_ (all of them) scribbled repeatedly across his skin. He would think that if Luna a complete stranger thought so of him, it must be true then.

_I'm going to die_ , he realized. He was going to die and he didn't know if it was a good or a bad thing. He always thought that he was going to die of old age, hopefully having gotten married to the girl of his dreams… He never thought he was going to be murdered, who would have found his life interesting to the point of wanting to wrench it away from him.

How stupid of him to think he could live this normal life…

He was going to die, it came as relief from the pain, from the Dursleys, from Smeltings, from everything that had made his life till now. Maybe he was going to see his mother and his father in that beautiful world, maybe some deity watching over him had known he would die, and had gave life to people he had only seen in pictures and others he had never known. He whimpered as Luna, no the Mad Hatter, his murderer took hold of his arm and the knife she was holding, pierced his skin once more.

_Mom_! He didn't know if it had been a scream, that broke the silence of the deadly forest, or if it had been a silent shout of his heart. He didn't care either way, he couldn't, would be more appropriate since his soul was slowly making it's way to the realm of the Dead.

His last thought was about, petal like, red lips, and shining blue eyes.  
\--_--_--_  
He looked like a doll now pretty, compliant…boring. He didn't even scream or move anymore. She grabbed an arm and raised it to her face. It was limp, and Harry didn't make a sound as she dug her nails in his skin making blood pour out some more. It was strangely disappointing, she had expected the murderer of her parents to be much more of a challenge, to fight until the end…to make her angry even after he died. Well she supposed he did, she was angry with the way he died.

She had seen the intense pain making his eyes shine brighter and tear well up under them, she had seen the sadness of leaving this world and going onto the next. But, what had disappointed Luna the most, was that never once she had seen him send a hateful glare her way. It made her revenge leave her feeling empty. And with one last deep stab to his heart she went away.

Ah, well revenge was a dish best served cold, she ought to remember this next time.

\--_--_--_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah Harry died, but don't worry it's not the end! ;) And yeah, I don't really know if The Dudley scene was gorish enough but I wasn't sure so I put the warnings?

**Author's Note:**

> Hoped you liked this chapter, well there is gonna be some gore in the next chapter I think, so what fo you think of it. (Sorry if the characters seemed a but OOC)


End file.
